Monday, April 28, 2014

It's my Monday and I'll ride if I want to.

Greetings from "Hipsturbia!" That's where I am right now as I type this:

Look at that street I just rode down. Now read the New York Times's description of it:

Here, beside the gray-suited salarymen and four-door minivans, it is no longer unusual to see a heritage-clad novelist type with ironic mutton chops sipping shade-grown coffee at the patisserie, or hear 30-somethings in statement sneakers discuss their latest film project as they wait for the 9:06 to Grand Central.As formerly boho environs of Brooklyn become unattainable due to creeping Manhattanization and seven-figure real estate prices, creative professionals of child-rearing age — the type of alt-culture-allegiant urbanites who once considered themselves too cool to ever leave the city — are starting to ponder the unthinkable: a move to the suburbs.But only if they can bring a piece of the borough with them.

Lies. All lies. I mean, sure, I bet plenty of boho douchebags move from Brooklyn to here, but I can only assume they become suburban doofuses almost immediately, because I'm up here all the time and I don't ever see anyone who fits the above description. If this town is cool then my neighborhood is the trendiest place on the planet. (Which I can assure you it isn't. The hippest place in my neighborhood is a kosher cafe, withe the fro-yo place running a close second.)

No, there ain't no Brooklyn up here. There is, however, a lot of the suburbs in Brooklyn now, but that's another story.

So what am I doing up here, besides looking for "heritage-clad novelist types with ironic mutton chops," of which there are none? (Holy shit, I just realized I'm the mutton-chopped novelist type! But I don't actually live here, so in your face New York Times.) Well, I'm at a cafe where I'm busy patting myself on the back for sneaking in a bicycle ride this morning:

See that? That's the gate to the mountain bike trails behind the mall where all the "Hipsturbia" bohos shop. (Okay, fine, I shop there too, and we hit up Sur la Table pretty fuckin' hard this past weekend.) What happened was I woke up this morning and thought to myself, "Aw, man, too bad it's Monday, back to the grind I guess." Then I fired up the new coffee maker from Sur la Table, and as it slowly relinquished its fair trade caffeinated diarrhea I realized, "Wait a minute, I'm a bike blogger, I don't have a grind!" I mean, really, if I'm going to be a semi-professional bike blogger I might as well enjoy myself, right? So off I went.

Of course, since I was theoretically "on the clock" I strapped on the Fly6. However, the little card inside of it seems to be freaking out a little bit, so I wasn't able to make all that much sense of the footage. (In particular, I couldn't find the footage of myself urinating, which is a huge loss for all of us.) I did, however, get to watch myself clearing this difficult (for me) section:

See how I get behind the saddle and my scranus totally blots out the sun?

Amazing. Who needs one of those newfangled "dropper seatposts" when you've got this kind of crotchal agility?

I hereby dub this section "Mount Scranus:"

(Like my scranus, it's craggy and forbidding.)

In addition to patting myself on the back for riding my bicycle when actual useful people are working, I'm also patting myself on the back for owning this particular bicycle:

Which, to mitigate the sheer artisanality of it, I've currently got rolling on wheels I built using only the very cheapest mail-order components:

I think the Nashbar hub cost me something like fourteen cents, and it's one of my favorite components in cycling because about twenty different companies sell variously branded versions of it at wildly different prices, the most amusing of which is the "Woodman" which goes for well over a hundred dollars:

Still, you get your money's worth in terms of sheer bulk, because the thing weighs as much as a Honda Civic.

cat cafe? hipsturbia? I live in one of the more unhip aerosmith-listening white trash sections of Boston, and both a cat cafe/spa and organic food co-op just opened up down the street from me - in a place where just 5 years ago crackheads would offer to service your privates for a small fee.

I even saw a bakfiets parked at the cat place (which is next to what resembles an airport hotel bar, without the airport or a hotel).

I gots me one of those giant type bicycle cycles just like Mr. Selleck but sadly the logo presentation is much less restrained. Seriously, it has like two dozen words on it, and every one says giant, only in all caps. I know, subtle right?

As someone who worked for Sur la Table's corporate outpost for like six days I can say with absolute authority that, much like the rest of that shithole outhouse Seattle, the company is a real shithole. Shit.

It's not unusual to see a novelist type with ironic mutton chops? I've never seen anybody type with mutton chops, and I used to have them. Best I could do was get them in my food sometimes. Video, NYT, or it didn't happen

All hail to Mount Scranus for it is where the fun originates. Now go forth good people and conquer that craggy peak. But watch out for the brown stuff. Contrary to appearances, it is neither dirt nor dirty snow.

I am shitting you not, but I have just made a not so oblique reference to poop, and this is the robot captcha that I am gifted with: erantp you. Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

Anon 1:28, WCRM was exaggerating for literary effect, like when he "makes fun of" me or my products. That hub is really no heavier than a Smart car. I was going to use them on my single speed bikes, but machine built wheels and stacks of spacers cost significantly less.

I witnessed a suburban hipster bike head-on collision last weekend. The sounds of rustled beards and tearing faux vintage jackets was horrifying. I had to eat at a PF Chang's just to recover psychologically.

My dad had some bona fide mutton chops, but that was back in the seventies. He never wrote a novel, nor rode a bike that I can remember, but we had a laugh when he tried to get on my cousin's skateboard one time. Good times....

You know what I think, I think whoever writes a sentence like "Here, beside the gray-suited salarymen and four-door minivans, it is no longer unusual to see a heritage-clad novelist type with ironic mutton chops sipping shade-grown coffee at the patisserie, or hear 30-somethings in statement sneakers discuss their latest film project as they wait for the 9:06 to Grand Central" is a way bigger douche than the people in the sentence.

Rollie - Yes that sentence could set the record for pseudo hip stereotype douchery.

"Here, beside the [douche description of middle aged worker], it is no longer unusual to see [douche description of novelist] in a [douche description of a coffee shop] or hear [douche sneakers] discuss [douche pseudo work] as they wait [for the douche train]."

Oh dear God. I dread to go for a ride because my brake levers might not be correctly placed and I will now be mocked by those 'In the know'. I just use to sort of squeeze them and the bike seemed to stop but it seems that there is so, so much more to this than I ever would have dreamed.

I tried riding without my Ergons over the winter and apparently my wrists are so old and craggly I need mandatory palm platforms. Fuck what looks good and do what feels right. Gettin old has some advantages.

Wait... What!?!?!!!LOL... Dudes seriously?!?! Is not possible to make a genuine suggestion on equiment!?!

Bro... ride as you like!!!! But stop telling other people what is right/wrong to do if you cant take a small advice yourself!!! No need to be ashamed!!! Never 2 late to learn in life!!!!! And get a suspension if you wanna have fun on the trails!!!

And for all the dushsters with an opinion on the matter without having a clue: Google images is your friend!!!! Just search for mtb racing and see how to to set p the levers!!!!

4 oclock rule i just made it up for the technically challnged so they get it!!!!!! NO OFFENSE!!!

I used to think Evie Stevens was hot but after watching some rainy day UCI Womens Pro Tour footage I have decided that Lizzy Armistead(Rainy Day Woman #12) and Emma Johansson(Rainy Day Woman #35) give me a much more significant Intimidation Boner.

I think I see the problem with Mr. MTB. Not enough exclamation points. Everyone knows that the more loudly and enthusiastically an argument is presented, the more persuasive it is. And while writing, the more exclamation points,the better.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!dude!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!bro!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!dudebro!!!!!..and so forth. I'm sure that will turn the tide.

Are you in Hastings on Hudson? I love it there! That's the first place I ever had pizza with leaves on top, which is about the most bohemian thing I can imagine. And that was ten years ago. I can only imagine how cutting edge cool it must be now.

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About Me

While I love cycling and embrace it in all its forms, I'm also extremely critical. So I present to you my venting for your amusement and betterment. No offense meant to the critiqued. Always keep riding!